


Heartbeat Instinct

by JailynnW



Series: Empathic!Foggy [3]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Empath!Foggy, F/M, Fluffy Feelings, Foggy's POV, Friends with Feelings, Gen, M/M, Matt's POV, Mutant!Foggy, Part 3, Powerful mutant, Secrets, Series, empathic healing, empathic teleportation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 18:37:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6206077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JailynnW/pseuds/JailynnW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Foggy tries to deal with Matt's secret. Matt tries to live without Foggy. Both have issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartbeat Instinct

**Author's Note:**

> Lord have mercy this story has been a pain in the butt. I've been working on it for so long and I'm not happy with it at all. Thank you to all that read the last story in the series and have stuck it out with me. I really hope you enjoy this part. Your support means so much to me.

@@@~~~@@@ 

Silence echoes.

It's not known to many, but it's true. Sometimes, in some ways, silence can be more deafening then all the sounds of the city and beyond combined. Matt loves and hates silence. Silence helps him center his thoughts, it also leaves him trapped with those thoughts. And that's the last thing he wants at this moment, because all his musings circle back to one person, to the sound of two hearts breaking and of the soft clap of a door closing between them.

The air around him still lingers with Foggy's scent. Comforting and familiar and currently doing its best to annihilate his already shattered heart. Matt knew this would happen eventually. People leave, it's what they do. The ones he loves the most always leave and usually it's his fault. His father died trying to make him proud. Stick left because he didn't want Matt clinging to him like the kid without a father he was. Foggy left because he did the only thing Foggy couldn't forgive – he lied.

Not once.

Not twice.

Multiple times. Every day for years. Always. And he would have continued. Matt knows this. It makes him sick, but he can't lie to himself. Or at least he tries not to lie to himself. At times the lies sneak in, fill him with hope, cloud his mind, and when the truth comes to light, the lies end up being the only thing he has.

Matt eases his body from the couch, holding tightly to his bruised rib cage and shuffles towards the kitchen for a drink. Preferably one with enough power to wipe away every last one of his thoughts from his mind. It's only around 9:15 in the morning, but as the old saying goes, it's five o'clock somewhere and he's making the decision that it's five o'clock right here in his apartment. Pulling open the refrigerator door, he stands there letting the cool air blast him. The press of the colder temperature against his warm, sore flesh causes him to grimace.

He hadn't really thought about how much of his pain Foggy was holding away from his conscience mind until right now. He knows that this is still only a portion. He should have been much worse off. Tears clog his throat, making breathing difficult. This is everything he always dreaded and nothing he could have prepared himself for. Nothing he could have done would have softened the blow of Foggy walking out the door and leaving him alone.

In all honesty he doesn't know what to do now. For so many years it's been Matt and Foggy, Foggy and Matt. It's been them taking on the world. Matt doesn't know how to function without his best friend, the man he loves more than anyone else. Since the minute he walked through that dorm room door, Foggy has been his lifeline. When the world overwhelmed him, he could focus on his friend's heart beat and settle down. How the hell is he supposed to settle down now?

Without his best friend Matt feels like he's floating in darkness, further and further away from humanity. Taking a deep, shuttering breath, he slams the frig shut without grabbing the beer he longed for, swinging around to face the window as if he could actually see what was beyond it. He closes his eyes, opening his ears to the sounds below, horns blaring, people speaking, some yelling, babies crying, the humming of electricity and faint beats of thousands of hearts. 

Thousands of heart beating but not the one that he needs. He feels a single tear against his cheek. He wipes at it; he doesn't deserve to feel sorry for himself. This break is his doing. He had so many opportunities to tell Foggy. He lets himself one moment to wonder if he had what would have changed. Would Foggy have been freaked out? No, Matt didn't think he would. Knowing Foggy he would have smiled and excitedly asked a million questions. 

A knock at the door pulled him out of his thoughts. He stills and uses his senses to the discover who his visitor is. His traitorous heart speeds up in the irrationally hope that Foggy changed his mind and was willing to give him another chance. The hope bursts almost as soon as it starts to take hold. Foggy isn't at his door. Foggy isn't anywhere close to him and he might never be again. 

The door opens and her sweet simple perfume announces her presence long before her soft voice does, “Matt?”

“Here,” he moves away from the window over to the couch and eases his aching body down onto the cushions. The air above her head shifts and the sound of foil and string rubbing together combines in his head and the shape forms into a medium size balloon. “Good morning Karen.”

“Is it,” she rocks back on her heels, her heart beating harder. “Foggy said you were in an accident last night. He wasn't specific and didn't talk long. He sounded...off.”

Matt swallows around the lump in his throat. “Did he say anything else?”

She shakes her head, her hair brushing against her shoulders. “No, but when I got to the office this morning, the ‘Nelson and Murdock’ sign was in the trash and most of his things were gone.” He drops his head down to his chin and closes his eyes against the fresh stab of devastation. “What happened, Matt?”

“We,” he stops talking to clear the thickness out of his throat, “We got into a fight.”

“A fight,” she parrots back to him, a shake to her words. 

“Yeah,” he gets up and walks back into the kitchen, not hesitating in grabbing the beer bottle from the refrigerator. The bottle is heavy in his hand, cold against his palm. He twists the cap off, tossing it to the counter. 

“Kinda early for that isn't it,” she sits down on the edge of the chair across the room from him.

He shrugs, uncaring, “Depends on the morning you're having I guess.”

“Matt,” Karen starts then stops, her breathing increasing in heaviness. “Are you okay?” His answering laugh is bitter. “What happened between you? Why were you fighting?”

He picks at the label on the bottle, “I did something. It's my fault.” He swallows. “Foggy left because of me.”

“Oh Matt,” Karen sighs. “He'll be back. You know Foggy, he loves you.”

Matt crushes the small ember of hope that tries to light up in his soul, “I don't think he's going to come back this time. And honestly I can't blame him.”

“I don't believe that. You're Matt and Foggy, best friends. You are too good together for one fight to wreck it all.” Matt doesn't respond, just takes a deeper pull from his beer. She gets up from the chair and walks over to him, her hand extended. “I got you a get well balloon. It has a monkey with a banana on it.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah,” her voice fades out. “I'm going to go. Feel better, Matt.”

“I will.”

Once she leaves, Matt breaks a little bit more. Foggy threw away their sign. He cleaned out most of his stuff. He is wiping himself from Matt's life. How is he supposed to survive that?

@@@~~~@@@ 

“Well don't you look like shit in a suit,” Marci comments the minute she answers the door. Her blue eyes cutting into him with amusement. Foggy glares at her. She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth and examines her perfectly manicured nails. “Fight with the hubby?”

“I don't have a “hubby”,” he snaps.

She laughs, “Please you and Murdock have been married since you met at Columbia. In fact I've always been a bit bitter I wasn't invited to the wedding.”

“Marci, please not now,” Foggy all but pleads.

“Oh fine,” she sighs dramatically, moving out of the way to let him into her apartment. “It's not fun to torment you when you look so pathetic anyway.”

“Gee, thanks,” he moves into the nice, much nicer than his, apartment and heads to the kitchen. He reaches into her refrigerator, grimacing a little at the overpriced beer, but taking one anyway.

“Please help yourself,” she tells him deadpanned as she waves her hand in his direction. He nods at her, taking a deep pull from the liquor. She rolls her eyes and walks over to the bar and sits on one of the stools. “So are you just going to drink my beer or are you actually going to be an adult and explain why you are here, drinking at,” she glances at her slim wristwatch, “8:25 in the morning. Nice, Foggy bear.”

“I had planned to drink some beer and maybe try and persuade you to go into work a little late today.” He dips his head down and gives her his best seductive smile – a look Marci laughs at.

“Oh my God, please stop, you're going to hurt yourself.” Her mischievous blue eyes dance with amusement. She drops her chin into her palm. “So really what happened between you and Murdock?”

“What makes you think anything happened between us?”

“Now you're just trying to wear my patience down,” Marci straightens up. “I really don't have time for this, so either spill, give me a different reason to stay interested or get out.”

Foggy leans against the counter of the bar and eyes her, “It's complicated.”

“Losing interest...”

He twists the bottle in his hand, “It was... Marci just don't ask right now. Matt and I,” he shrugs, “I don't know what to say other than, we're not okay and I don't think we will be for a while. If we ever will be again.”

Her cold exterior slips down and her eyes soften, he feels her feelings of concern - that she hides so well under that flippant attitude – deepen, “That bad huh?” He nods, feeling worse and worse by the second. She sighs, looks at her watch again and slides off the stool. “Fine, stay. I have to go to work.”

“But...”

“Listen, just because your life is falling apart, doesn't mean mine should,” she flips her hair over her shoulder and grabs her briefcase. “I expect some answers when I get back or at the very least some shows of gratitude.” Her left brow raises and her mouth corks in a half smile.

Foggy tries his best to smile at her, the emptiness in his chest making that difficult, “Thanks, Marci.”

“Whatever,” she shrugs, walking out the door.

He slumps down the minute she locks the door behind her. His body feels like he went several rounds with a prized fighter and he guesses, now that he knows exactly what and who Matt is, he has. He wants so bad to hate the man. He wants to curse him and act like he could live without him, but he can't. No matter what he can't hate Matt. Underneath all the pain and anger and _hurt_ he feels, he still loves him. Desperately. It took every ounce of strength not to run back to him when he felt Matt completely break on that couch. 

Foggy shakes his head, closing his eyes tightly to stem the flood of tears welling up inside him. The hardest part for him is he has always known that Matt was special, he just wouldn't let himself see how special. A piece, a part of Foggy has always been aware that Matt could do things that logic would tell you someone who was blind shouldn't have been able to do. A bitter feeling laugh forces its way out. Maybe in the end, he was the truly blind one in the friendship. He gulps the final third of his beer and pushes away from the counter, dropping the empty bottle in the trash on his way to the plush cream leather couch that dominated the tiny living room. 

The cushions give way to his weight and he sinks gratefully into them. His eye lids droop, reminding him that he hasn’t slept in almost a full twenty-eight hours. Foggy lets them fall, but sleep isn't in the cards. His mind races more, his stomach rolls and he can feel every damn emotion for blocks. The stabbing needles of thoughts and feelings make his head fill like he is being sliced open and salt is being poured into his wounds. He rolls over the onto the floor and practically crawls to the bathroom. The coolness of the floor is welcomed to his overheated skin. Foggy rests his forehead against the rim of the toilet bowl and empties the limited contents of his stomach into the bottom. The burning acid rakes against his dry throat, causing him to gag worse. 

After what seems like an eternity he slips to the tile and just lays there even more exhausted then he was before. Tears prickle the backs of his eyes, he swallows hard. He’s cried too many tears in these past twenty-four hours and he isn’t sure if he even has any water left in his body. Hell at this point he may be crying beer, whiskey and whatever he drank at Josie’s. He honestly tries not to think too deeply about what he gulps down in his favorite watering hole. 

He sighs and eases himself from the floor, using the wall to help support his weight. He slowly works his way toward the bedroom, thanking the deity above that he knows this apartment fairly well. Marci and he were never completely done. Sometimes having someone know you so deeply is just what you need in life, especially when dealing with so many people that hate you for no reason other than your DNA has a slightly different than a quote unquote normal human being. Marci, for all her faults, has always been someone he could count on. They were each other’s ghosts, curling around each other’s lives, there but not there. 

Foggy presses against the door to the bedroom and fell face first into the softness of the mattress. An audible groan escapes his lips as he sinks further and further into bed. He claps his hands to his ears in a fruitless attempt to block out all the noise. It’s like swimming up against a rip current. He is being pulled deeper out to sea with no safe oasis around. 

_“Breathe, Mr. Nelson,”_ a calm accented voice faintly calls to him. The pounding in his head eases little by little as he inhales and exhales slowly. _“That’s it. Let the feelings flow through you. Don’t fight them.”_

Before long, Foggy feels more like himself than he has in days. He rolls over onto his back and sighs, _“Thank you, Professor. How did you know?”_

_“I have my ways,”_ the serene smile is clearly formed in his voice. _“Can I ask what has sent you down this path, Foggy? You haven’t been that unfocused in years.”_

He bites the inside of his cheek and mulls over what he should say. Foggy knows he could tell Professor X about Matt and it would stay between them, but it wasn’t his secret to share. And Foggy isn’t sure how to even start explaining. It’s not the most common subject matter… or maybe now it might be. It seems like there are vigilantes everywhere. Matt is just someone he never thought would be one. Sighing deeply again, he opens his mind a little more to the telepath, _“A client, a sweet woman who was just trying to save her home, was killed. I promised to help her and by doing that I most likely got her murdered.”_

It isn’t a lie. It’s that very incident that sent him to Matt’s drunk and falling apart. But it’s also not the whole truth. He just prays that Professor X isn’t probing his mind too deeply. Of course even as he begins to think that, he knows the older man would never invade his thoughts that way. 

_“I’m so sorry, Foggy.”_ A new wave of calm settles in his bones. Having a mental conversation with another person used to freak him out, but now he finds himself comforted by the sensation of having Professor X in his mind. It’s familiar. _“You know that isn’t your fault right? I know you would have done everything in your power to save her if you could have.”_

Fresh tears threaten to build in his throat. Foggy swallows hard, pushing them back as far as possible. “I know.” He whispers the words out loud then quickly says them again in his mind. He takes a deep breath and changes the subject. _“How’s Ember?”_

_“Oh she’s doing well. Flourishing and making so many new friends. She’s very bright as well…”_

Foggy drifted off to sleep listening to Professor X.

@@@~~~@@@ 

Matt’s completely lost. The cold night is starting to claw at him. He has always known deep down that Foggy was and is his anchor to the world. His best friend gave him somewhere safe to turn when all the monsters in his head became too much for him. He could call him or text him or show up and Foggy would slap him on the back and just center him again. With him gone… It’s like losing his sight all over again. The world seems too big, too loud, too much and he is being pulled away into the hell that he hears under the cover of night.

Matt tilts his head toward the west and listens to the dirty deals being made. A man offering a hooker two hundred dollars for a quickie in the back alley, he is only mildly surprised that the hooker is in fact a male and not a female. A junkie trying to score some drugs with the promise of payment at a later date. A father and mother fighting with each other as newborn baby wails in the background. A woman sobbing into her knees as her lover screams at her for cleaning the house poorly. Matt zeros in on that one, briefly listening harder as the man’s voice tremors with anger and slurs with the drink. 

He curls his hands into fists, his aching muscles tightening in anticipation for a fight. He knows he is still too injured to actually go out and fight the low lives that crawl through the shadows like mice scurrying from dumpster to dumpster, but he could surely knock an abusive asshole down a peg or two. Maybe if he did, maybe then he could stop feeling so empty.

Pushing from the window he paces the length of his living room, his stomach quivering. The devil sliding around his veins licks his lips, his forked tongue flicking fire in his blood. _You’re better off without him._ The demon snarls in his ear sounding so much like Stick, Matt shivers. _He wasn’t right for us. He was too clean. He held you back from your true calling. He was unwanted baggage._

Matt’s fist tightens, turning his knuckles white, “No,” he breathes through clenched teeth. “No. Foggy was never unwanted or baggage.”

The demon chuckles gleefully, settling in the warm cackles of his heart. _But you don’t deny he was too clean for us. Too good. Foggy would never understand. You need this. You need _me_ _

The truth of that slams into Matt’s gut like a well-placed punch, knocking the wind out of him. The devil is right. He does need him and Foggy would never understand. And honestly, he is glad for that. He would never want Foggy to be filled with the type of rage he is all the time. Matt would never want Foggy to _need_ to feel that release of hearing a bone give way or to smile at the feel of another’s blood dripping down from his closed fingers. He would never want Foggy to change.

But even though he knows that this is for the best, he can’t help the selfish part of him that desperately wants to have his friend beside him right now. He can’t stop the dull throbbing ache, that is more painful to him than all the bruises and cuts and broken bones he has ever suffered before, that is coming from his soul. He can’t stop the feeling of lost from flooding his body. He can’t stop it. He finally stops trying.

He closes his eyes and breathes as deep as possible, rolling his shoulders to work some of the tension out. He opens his ears toward the couple again and is relieved to hear the woman getting in a cab with the man begging her to stay, that he is sorry, that it won’t happen again. Matt grimaces. It’s the same words they all say. Empty promises of change, of regret. He hopes the woman doesn’t listen and follows her instinct to run away for good. 

Like Foggy did. The wound opens again and he has to take several quick breathes to control the waves of emotion. He rubs his hand over his forehead, then down his face.

Matt drops heavily to the floor, crossing his legs to get into a mediating position. He fights against every ounce of his being to keep moving and focuses on a single sound. The dipping of water through the pipes gives him just what he needs. The slow slip of liquid sliding against the rough textured metal, gathering into a droplet, hanging loosely from the tightly netted opening at the base of the faucet before finally dislodging and falling down into the sink. 

The image forms in his mind and repeats. He matches his breathing to the actions of the water, letting his mind detach from the pain that penetrates his…everything. After a while he doesn’t have to try anymore. He floats in a new space, separate from the place he never wants to return. He’s warm and safe. The air shifts and takes form. He could _see_ it. He can see him. Air catches in his throat. He can see him. Foggy’s eyes shine and shimmer, the hue is somewhere between blue and hazel. He could see them being soft and playful like this. It makes sense, it’s how he pictured Foggy’s eyes would look, even if he didn’t know what color they truly were. His smile is wide and bright and right now, all for Matt. He sits across from him, his legs folded like Matt’s and he inhales and exhales in time with Matt.

_“Well this is new,” Dream Foggy says, his voice slightly thick around the edges. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in your dreams or mediations before.”_

Matt hesitates. Was this real? Was this part of Foggy’s powers? Could he dare to hope that he has, maybe, possibly forgiven him already? He watches Foggy shift to get comfortable. His longish hair falls into his face. Matt longs to push it back, but he’s frightened. If this is real, then he didn’t want to do anything that might make Foggy rethink his decision to forgive. If it’s not real, then he didn’t want to break this beautiful illusion he is in.

_Foggy lifts his head and stares at him. His lips pull down a little in a slight frown. The skin between his eyebrows fold and wrinkle in concentration. He opens his mouth then closes it, finally he sighs deeply. “It’s real.” He waves his hand back and forth in a “so-so” motion. “Kinda.” He rubs his hand over his forehead. “I…” He grimaces seemingly angry with himself. “I needed to know that you were okay.”_

_“Have you…” Matt swallows. “Foggy I…”_

_“I’m not ready to forgive you.” He cuts him off. Foggy’s eyes lose a little of their shimmer, dulling out. “I’m really fucking pissed at you. And hurt. But…” He lets out a frustrated growl. Matt tries to not be turned on by the sound, but he does catalog it for future examination. “I just needed to know you weren’t dead.”_

_“You care?” He sounds lost even to his own ears, he can just imagine what he sounds like to Foggy._

_Foggy tilts his head, studying him. “Yeah, but I can’t be around you right now.” He pauses, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows, “I don’t know when I’ll be able to again.”_

_Matt nods, ducking his head down. He licks his lips and looks at him again, trying for levity. “So is this how you look?”_

_Foggy peers down at his own body, “Eh, pretty much, give a pound or two or twelve here or there.”_

_“You look just the way I thought you would,” he means to speak the words in a conversational tone, but they come out soft and fond._

_“Really,” his voice catches. His lips turn up a small degree. “Have you thought about what other parts look like?” The sparkle in his eyes makes Matt blush before he shakes his head and the moments gone. “Sorry. I…” He shakes his head again._

_“I have,” Matt admits because this might be his last chance. “A bunch of times.”_

_Foggy fights with himself, the struggle is visible then he shrugs and smiles slightly again. “Do you like what you see? Now and…” he waves his hand._

_Matt would never call Foggy insecure. He always seems to walk into a room knowing that he owns it, but sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes, if only for a minute, Foggy shows that he has self-doubt and fears he doesn’t share with anyone. Matt understands that. Matt’s the same way. It’s one of the many reasons they connect so well._

_“I do. I always have. You’re,” he closes his eyes then quickly reopens them afraid Foggy will disappear if he keeps them shut. “Beautiful.”_

_Foggy blushes. The redness spreads like a wave over his cheeks. “So are you,” he whispers._

_Matt feels an answering blush flush his cheeks. The silence that settles between them turns awkward. They’ve never really been this open with each other. They’ve shared so much but have also hid _just_ as much. The realization that there is nothing between them now but distance and hurt feelings is hard to believe. He couldn’t get over being able to see his friend, the man he loves, and he never wanted to stop being able to._

_“You said you could heal,” Foggy nods. “Could you…” Matt waves to his eyes._

_His best friend shakes his head sadly, “It doesn’t work like that.” Foggy licks his lips then nips at the bottom one in thought. “I can’t really heal. I mean I can take pain away, when I need to, but I can’t mend a broken leg or anything like that. I can just,” he shrugs, “it’s hard to explain. I didn’t really explore that part of my powers much. I just know that I can help. And sometimes along the way wounds get healed.” Matt tries not to be disappointed. Silence covers them again. Foggy shifts then looks somewhere in the distance. “I need to go.”_

_“Please,” the panic in his chest raises up. “Just stay a little longer.”_

_A pained look settles in the other man’s eyes, “I can’t. This is taking too much energy and…” He rubs his forehead. “It’s too hard to be here and it would be too easy to just let myself believe everything is fine between us.”_

_“It could be.”_

_“It isn’t and I don’t know if it will be again.” He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. “I need time.”_

And with that Foggy gets up, taking the light with him as he disappears from view leaving Matt with only shadows and a broken heart. He opens himself back up to his surroundings. The hard wood cold under him, the loud sounds of the world around him. He hangs his head and lets some tears fall.

@@@~~~@@@ 

Foggy eases himself into a sitting position on Marci’s bed. He shouldn’t have done that. He should have stayed away, but he couldn’t. He had to know if Matt was alright and maybe show off a little. He honestly wasn’t intending to enter Matt’s meditative state. He has only crossed plains once and that was an accident that left him shaken and fearful. All he was aiming to do this time was to reach out and make sure Matt was alive and taking care of himself. Foggy knows his friend. When he said they didn’t know each other at all during their fight it was hurt feelings and anger speaking. Foggy knows him. He knows that guilt is a reigning emotion in Matt’s life and now he knows exactly how Matt exorcises those demons.

He pushes up from the bed, stretching out the knots in his back. He glances at his watch and makes a quick decision. Foggy gathers his stuff from the living room and scribbles a quick note of thanks to Marci for letting him crash at her place with the promise to explain everything, or almost everything, to her later. The last part was written only because he knows that she’ll be like a bloodhound searching for the truth if he doesn’t at least sate some of her curiosity. 

Making his way toward the office, he tries his best to block all the warring emotions out. He needs to be as level as possible walking into his office. If he is even the slightest bit off Karen will ask questions. Not that he isn’t prepared for her to do that anyway, but she’ll ask more questions then he’ll feel comfortable dodging. God he hopes she’s not there.

The one thing he doesn’t want to be responsible for is keeping her in the dark. Lies just complicate life. His life is complicated enough without adding on the stress of having to keep stories straight in his mind. One of the best things about coming from the Xavier School is he never had to really lie about who he is and what he can do. Hide the extent of it, yes. Flat out, bold face lie; no. 

Foggy grits his teeth. This is the part he isn’t sure he can forgive Matt for; putting him right smack dab between a rock and a hard place. He moves fast down the sidewalks until his block finally appears before him. Foggy stops at the door to the building, trying to calm his breathing. He never realizes how out of shape he is until he decides to power walk thirty blocks. He really needs to hit the gym. The left side of his mouth quirks up and he mentally waves his hand, he’ll go to the gym later. 

The four flights of stairs up to the office of Nelson and Murdock is done at a much slower speed. He milks every last second to give him a chance to make up a story if Karen is up there and to give him time to ready his own mind if she’s not. Finally reaching the door is actually calming to him. The amount of “what ifs” rolling around in his brain was incredible and confusing.  
The lights are off when he enters and he breathes a sigh of relief at that. Karen’s not here. Matt’s not here. Foggy enters his small, damp space and goes to his desk. The stack of files is woefully tiny, a reflection on how little work this practice actually has. On the upside, however, at least it doesn’t take him long to find what he’s looking for. He slides the three manila folders into his brown leather satchel and flicks off the desk light.

“I didn’t expect you to be here,” Karen says from the darkness of her desk.

Now, Foggy is as manly as the next guy, or possibly that next guy’s teenage cousin, but when she spoke he makes a noise that he will forever be embarrassed by. He places a hand to his heart, “Karen! What the hell?”

She turns her small lamp on and grins a little sheepishly at him. “Sorry.” He nods and swings the bag over his shoulder. “Did you really not know I was here?”

“I know that some people think I can be overdramatic at times…”

“Matt,” she supplies.

“…but trust me when I say, I would never make a yelping sound like that if I had known even for a moment you were in the building.” She bites her lip to smother a smile from curling on her lips. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Someone has to work.” She replies flippantly. “And since it appears that the partners of this law firm have decided to take a mini vacation, I thought that person should be me.”

“Matt isn’t taking a vacation,” Foggy sighs. “I told you he…”

“Was in a car accident,” her nod is curt. “That doesn’t really match what I saw when I went there this morning though. Granted he was pretty messed up, but those injuries,” she stares straight into his eyes. “They don’t seem like they came from getting hit by a car. Unless cars now come with knives and fists attached.”

Foggy wisely keeps quiet at that. See this is why he hates lying. _Fuck you very much, Matthew Murdock!_

Karen sighs, getting up from her desk chair, “What happened between you two?”

“Karen, I,” he shakes his head. “I can’t…Matt and I, we,” he looks away from her for a moment and then back. “We’re just going through something. We’re... he and I just need some time from each other.”

“Time away,” her eyes fill with confusion, he feels every ounce of that confusion. He just doesn’t know if that feeling was coming from him or her. “I can’t think of you without him or the other way around. Look, whatever you guys are going through…”

“Will take time to fix,” Foggy interrupts. “I’m sorry Karen, but this isn’t something I can…” he shakes his head again. He looks at her desk and his eyebrow shoots up. He points to the pamphlets and other papers on the cracked wooden surface. “What’s that?”

She glances down, color infusing her cheeks. “I found something out. About Fisk I mean. His mother is still alive. Ben and I found her and talked with her.”

“Karen, fuck,” he whispers, falling heavily onto the edge of her desk. “You shouldn’t have gone without Matt or me. You could have been hurt or killed. If Fisk is going to these lengths to hide his mother, there is no telling what he will do to anyone that finds out about that secret.”

“Funny thing about that,” her voice is sharp. “I tried to call you. Both of you, but you didn’t answer me and when you did, you lied to me, so I don’t feel like I’m in the wrong here.”

“Well _that’s_ one way to make me feel like an even bigger jackass,” she shrugs. “I’m sorry about last night. Just please don’t do anything else without Matt or I or an army. Fisk is dangerous. He has secrets and he has buried them. He wants them to stay buried.”

 

“I know what I’m doing,” Karen tells him seriously. “And besides I was there with Ben and no one knows…”

“Yet.” Foggy gets up and paces the floor from the door back to the desk. “Fisk is too careful, too smart, not to cover all his bases.” He stops at the mid-way point and looks her in the eyes. “I don’t want to see you get hurt. I don’t want…” 

She smiles sadly, “I know.” 

He nods his head, knowing without using his abilities, that she is feeling the same lost and hurt he is and nothing he says will ease it. He takes several steps toward her and places a hand on her shoulder, pulling some of her pain out. Her eyes brighten and she looks up at him gratefully.

“Foggy…” her heart rate jumps. “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” he smiles at her. He drops his hand from her and turns to go before quickly swiveling back around. “I will call you later, Karen. Please try and get some rest.”

“What about Matt.”

He shrugs, “I don’t know. Right now. I just don’t know.” He wraps one of his hands around the strap of his satchel and opens the door almost running into Matt. The awkward tension between them erupts and Foggy feels some heat in his cheeks. “Uh.”

Matt shifts his cane from hand to hand, gripping it tighter each time. “Fog…”

“I have to go,” Foggy interrupts, skirting around him through the doorway. He doesn’t remember making it to the street, but once he does, he closes his eyes and tries to breathe through the tsunami emotions he’s feeling at that moment. His stomach twists uncomfortably.

@@@~~~@@@ 

It’s a sucker punch to the throat. That’s the best way for Matt to describe the feeling he has when he finds out about Ben’s death. The air releases from his lungs in a gasp of shock and pain…and guilt. He did this. His vendetta started this. He is directly connected to another innocent life being snuffed out. When he thinks about how many people have been killed or hurt because of him and Fisk, it burns. His throat tightens, his stomach clinches and he wants to pound his fist into every criminal standing between him and that bastard of a man.

Karen moves around him. Her tears give the air a salty taste. He hasn’t cried. Not yet. He isn’t sure he will cry over this. And that’s not because he didn’t like Ben or he isn’t being ripped to shreds over his death, it’s because he doesn’t feel like he has the right to cry. He’ll let himself feel the pain fully when Fisk is behind bars. Where he belongs.

Matt settles behind his desk, grabbing for his computer and starts up the machine. He hears Karen sniffle then take a deep breath. He tilts his head when he realizes she’s on the phone. Her words are hushed and careful. She’s trying not to draw attention to herself, which makes Matt curious and cautious. He has been even more mindful of her since finding out about Ben and knowing just how close she was to all of Fisk’s dirty secrets. She is too close. Way too close.

“The funeral is Monday,” her breath catches as she struggles to not sob her soul out. “Please come. Ben would have wanted you there.” A meaningful pause. “I need you there.”

Matt strains to hear the response of the person she’s talking to and grips the edge of his desk when he hears Foggy’s unmistakable voice, “I’ll try, Karen.”

“Don’t try,” she urges. “Put all your shit with Matt aside and show up,” the timber of her tone deepens in desperate anger. “He’s dead, Foggy. Show up.”

Foggy’s side of the phone is silent and Matt briefly thinks she hung up on him, then he hears, “It has nothing to do with Matt, Karen.” He sighs. “All I can do is tell you that I’ll try my hardest to be there. I’m sorry, Karen. I’m sorry you are in pain. I’m sorry that Ben is gone. I’m… I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” she acknowledges, “We all are.” A break in the conversation makes Matt uncomfortable, he shifts in his seat and gulps back the emotions he hasn’t dealt with yet. “Just please try to be there, Foggy. I need you.” Her voice drops down. “Matt needs you. He’s not…”

Foggy sighs again. Matt feels the weight of it. “Goodbye Karen. Call me if you need me.” The line hums but Matt knows neither of them has hung up. He swallows, waiting…for the click or… “Call me if Matt needs me too.” That.

“Does that mean,” Karen’s chair squeaks as she sits up quickly.

“I don’t know what that means,” Foggy admits then the click. 

Matt sags in his office seat. His throat constricts tightly. Water stings his eyes and he blinks several times to levitate the pressure. 

Work is the last thing on his mind after that.

@@@~~~@@@ 

“I think I found something,” Marci places her briefcase on the island in the middle of the kitchen as he straightens his tie. He glances in her direction, amused but not at all surprised that she let herself into his apartment with the air of ownership. She has always been like that. Her space is hers and his space is hers. It’s one of the many reasons he likes her so much. Her clear blue eyes sharpen slightly in concentration. “Where are you going?”

Foggy arches his eyebrow at her, “Ben’s funeral. It’s today.”

“You’re going?”

“Of course I’m going,” he walks over to the small end table next to his couch and grabs his keys. “He died trying to take this bastard down and Karen needs me. Her pain is pulling at me so much I can’t really focus on anything else. You have to understand that.”

Her hard exterior breaks, the fear she’s been burying to help him rises to the surface, “I’m risking my life too, Foggy-bear. Do you know what could happen if someone finds out what I’ve been doing?” She opens the refrigerator and takes out his bottle of cheap rum, her hand shaking slightly as she twists off the cap. “He came into the offices today.” Foggy swallows, his throat closes up. “He didn’t see me. But that man- he…” she shakes her head and bypasses the glass, drinking right from the bottle.

“I’m sorry, Marci,” he rubs a hand over his hair. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”

She waves her hand, the liquor already calming some of her nerves. “I volunteered remember? I couldn’t stand your puppy dog face anymore and if it will get you back with your husband…” Her smirk slips and slides from her face, taking the effectiveness of it as it goes. 

He fights to keep his guilt over everything from his voice as he aims for a lighthearted response, “We aren’t married.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Nelson-Murdock.”

“Why am I taking his name in this little joke?”

She shoots him a killer look, taking another pull from the bottle, “Please you are so the bride.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well let’s examine this,” she carries the rum loosely between her finger tips as she moves into the tiny living room and curls up in the corner of the couch, “You are the more emotional one, he would definitely open the doors, you like chick flicks more than I do,” he opens his mouth but snaps it back when she dares him to deny it. “And Matt, well I could definitely see him as the, um, more aggressive one. Oh yeah, I can clearly see him pushing you up against the wall and ripping your poorly tailored suit from your body as he makes you breathless.” Marci gets a dreamy look in her eye, “Mmm, that’s definitely going to give me some good dreams tonight.”

“Marci,” he groans, shaking his head. Even though he feels more than a little embarrassed by the way she’s licking her lips, Foggy also feels breathless thinking about the scene she described right then. The racing of his heart and the heat enflaming his body are hard to ignore…as well as the hardness other parts of his anatomy. He shakes his head again, this time to clear it and struggles to focus back on the silly discussion, “Are you saying I wasn’t aggressive enough for you?”

“Oh Foggy-bear,” she licks her lips flirtatiously, batting her eyelashes in a way that she will deny to her dying breath she did and leans forward her breast straining against the material of her dress. The liquor really working through her now, “you are always good for me.” She pouts, “It’s one of the reasons I’m so sad that I lost you to Murdock. I’ve never been with anyone else that’s left me quite so weak-legged the next morning.”

The sweet heady feeling of her intoxication swirls inside him, dulling his own emotions with it. Karen’s pain, Matt’s guilt, his own bitterness- all of it subdued to a buzz at the back of his brain. Foggy welcomes it too much. He lets the distraction of their ridiculous conversation and the rum keep him rooted in his spot even though he knows he should be somewhere else.

Time ticks away. He turns toward the door, smooths out the wrinkles of his good jacket. Foggy doesn’t move the direction he should, instead he unlatches the silver clasp of Marci’s fucking expensive briefcase and pulls out the stack of papers inside. It’s foolish. He will probably come to regret his choice, but he stays anyway and hopes one day they will forgive him this transgression.

@@@~~~@@@ 

Matt knows he’s there long before his body shifts awkwardly near the ancient boxing ring’s ropes. His blows against the bag slow until he stops completely. Foggy’s outline vibrates with electricity in his mind. His heart wars with his mind, hope flickers in only to be squished by hurt filled anger. He waits a moment longer letting the distance between them settle.

“How did you know I was here?” 

Foggy shifts again, a shrug, “I’ve known about your outlet for a while.” Matt swallows. “I didn’t push because I thought it had to do with your dad-“ Another slight movement, shoulders rolling up. “I know better now.” Matt starts punching again. The need to fight off his demons and the conflicting emotions spurring him on. Each time his fist connects with the bag, he feels just a little more grounded. “Thought you would be punching people in the head or whatever you do.”

The response comes easily between blows, “I was. I paid Ben’s editor a visit.”

“Ellison?”

“Yeah.” Another punch, his body both relaxing and tensing with the repeated movements. “Karen thinks he’s working for Fisk.”

Foggy’s heart jumps, just once but it’s noticeable. “Did he talk?”

Explaining to his best friend about how he couldn’t get close, the wife and kid picked him up, it all feels strangely right. This is what he should have been doing all along. Then maybe…maybe this distance wouldn’t be between them. Maybe he wouldn’t be beating this bag as hard as he could as a way of sorting out his thoughts… on the other hand maybe he still would. Who’s to say? The distance is there. The air around Foggy shifts and he moves closer, leaning against the floor of the ring. Matt’s measuring the space between them without even looking. Every step closer a new feeling of rightness and hope starts to flourish. 

“Looks like you have some anger issues,” the other man comments. They both know how much anger Matt truly possesses. There are no more secrets now. “Wanna talk about it?”

“You aren’t my priest Foggy,” Matt can barely breathe, “Who you would have meet had you bothered to show up at Ben’s funeral.”

Matt doesn’t need to be an empath to feel Foggy’s guilt over that. It’s clear in the way his voice drops, “Karen upset?”

“I told her it was my fault,” he pulls the tape from his wrists. It isn’t a lie, it isn’t the truth, it just is. “All this between you and me.”

“I just nodded,” Foggy says and Matt can’t quite stop the warmth from flooding through him at the familiar words. “You can tell that right?”

A sigh, the illusion shattering. “Yeah I can tell.”

“I was on my way to Ben’s funeral when Marci came by,” Foggy turns his head towards him. His friend’s voice softer like they were sharing a secret.

“Marci,” Matt feels a tinge of jealous, a bitter roll to his stomach. 

He knows that Foggy has been around Marci. He can smell her sweet, fruity perfume on his clothes and on his skin. Matt knew deep down they could find their way back to each other, but… Well it doesn’t matter. Foggy was with her when Karen and when he needed him. Maybe their friendship is too fractured now.

“She’s been helping me,” Foggy swallows. “Getting files from Landman and Zack on the down low. A whole stack of documents on their dealings with Fisk.” Matt wants so badly to scream. “And Owlsley at Silver and Brent.”

He can’t take it anymore. He just buried someone that was trying to help take down this bastard and now Foggy and Marci are putting themselves in the line of fire without his knowledge. A brief flash of his friend laying still with a pool of blood seeping from his prone body enters his mind and he slams his fist down. 

“Ben is dead because he got involved,” Matt’s voice shakes from all the things he doesn’t want to think about. “And now you’re doing the same with your ex.” _If she is your ex…_

“We’re being careful.”

He’s already shaking his head before Foggy finishes his sentence, “This has to stop.” He gathers his stuff, more fearful rage claiming another piece of his soul. “Fisk has to…” He can’t even get his thoughts together enough to continue. “I have to stop this… before there is no one left to bury.”

“Matt? Matt,” he walks past Foggy. His mind made up. This is the only way. Foggy, Karen- they will both understand. “The last time you went after Fisk, I found you half dead. More than half.” Matt stops. “If you go after him in the mask again, he might kill you. Or you’ll kill him and with as Catholic as you are that would be the same thing.”

He doesn’t want to hear this, damn it. He knows! And he knows that Foggy knows. “What am I supposed to do? How do I stop him?” _Help me._ is the part he doesn’t say. He doesn’t have the right to.

“By using the law, Matt,” Foggy moves closer, the air ripples, “Like you told me and Karen to do. _That’s_ how we take him down.”

“We?” His mouth suddenly goes dry. Too much. Too much hope, it’s too much. _Foggy please…_ “I thought Nelson and Murdock were over.” _Please…please come back. I need you._

“There’s nothing I want more,” his words are thick with emotion. Matt can feel every ounce of it and he doesn’t know if that’s Foggy’s doing or their connection at play. Maybe both. “Then to find a way back to where we were, but…I don’t know if we can.”

“No,” Matt admits. “We can’t.” _And I don’t want to. I want something more. I want you, no secrets, at my side._ “But maybe we can find a way to move forward, Foggy.”

Foggy takes another step closer, then another until they are only a few inches apart, “I’d like that. I’ve miss you, buddy.”

He struggles with the relief that sweeps through his blood, “I’ve missed you too.”

@@@~~~@@@ 

Working late into the night with Matt and Karen again, Foggy can breathe. It’s like being engulfed by a warm blanket. Comforting and right. After a rough moment or two between Karen and himself, things settle back down and they were back to being the three musketeers. The feeling of finding something tangible to use against Fisk puts them all on a high he hasn’t felt since that one year in college when he experimented with anything and everything that would potentially dim his powers (and his feelings for a certain blind roommate).

But as quick as the high came, it immediately crashes to the floor at the news Fisk’s has escaped. Foggy watches Matt’s demeanor darken; the devil he is starting to get to know, climbing to the surface. They hasten to get Karen home and safe. Foggy would be standing outside her door later. Nothing and no one would touch her. 

“Matt,” he hisses, “Matt talk to me.”

“I have to go,” Matt looks like he is ready to jump out of his skin. His mind already getting prepared. “I can’t let him get away.”

“I know,” Foggy touches his shoulder, stopping his best friend in his tracks. “I know. Please be careful. Please come back.” He pushes a shaky smile to his lips, “Go be a hero, just make sure you come back in one piece. If you don’t I’ll help you heal then give you hell.”

Matt face breaks into a rare relaxed smile for a moment. Just a moment, but that’s all Foggy needs. “I will Foggy.” 

With one more touch, Matt goes off into the night. Foggy closes his eyes and clears his mind. If Matt needs him tonight, he will be there. He will reach out as far as his senses will allow him and he will give his best friend everything he can. 

He makes his way to Karen’s and knocks on her door with the bottle of tequila in his other hand as a peace offering. When she answers the door, her eyes are red and puffy. Her pale face is drawn in fear.

“Foggy,” her voice shakes. He steps over the threshold and wraps her in his arms. “Please tell me he won’t get away. Please tell me he won’t win.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he places the bottle on the end table by the door and pushes her hair from her face. “He won’t. He will get what is coming to him. He will rot in jail and never see the light of day again.” He holds her gaze, “He won’t hurt you again.”

Her voice catches and she buries her face into his shoulder. Her body quakes as she clings to him. The raw emotions claw into him and he feels like his skin is on fire, but he holds on and takes small amounts from her. Soon Karen slumps slightly in his arms, her eyelids droop and she can barely hold herself up on her own legs. 

Foggy bends down and lifts her easily into his arms. Her waif like frame worries him. Has she been eating enough? Was she taking care of herself? Why is she so light, shouldn’t there be more weight to her? The concerns speed through his mind. _I’ve let her down,_ that’s his final thought as he lays her down on the plush bedding. He pulls a blanket up from the bottom of her bed, covering her with it. 

“Have only sweet dreams, Karen,” he whispers into her ear as he rests his fingers against her temples to relieve some more of her pain so she can sleep. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

@@@~~~@@@ 

Matt removes the cowl from his face the moment he enters his apartment. He tilts his head toward the other person in the room. Foggy’s familiar shape and scent fills his mind. “I told you I would make it back.”

“I never doubted you, buddy,” Matt raises his eyebrow. “Okay, well, you can’t blame me for being a little doubtful. I mean the last time didn’t exactly go your way.” His friend reaches out, his hand hovering near his cheek. Matt longs to lean forward, but he holds himself away. “Are you hurt? At all?”

“I’m fine,” Foggy nods his head. The tension between them twists and heats up. “Karen?” Matt whispers.

“Safe,” the other man tells him. “She’s sleeping. Hopefully deeply and without any nightmares.” He sighs. “I may have pushed as much happiness into her as I possibly could have without making her seem like she was high.” Matt smiles at him. “What happened between you and Fisk?”

“He…” Matt shakes his head. “He believes so deeply that he is right. That all he has done has improved the city- his city.” He grips the cowl in his hands, twisting it. “I understood him.”

“He’s wrong.”

“I know that.” He shrugs, “I know he is wrong. That all he has done has been for his own glory, not to help clean up Hell’s Kitchen.” Matt raises his head, filling his thoughts with Foggy’s presence- a faded picture from the mediation meeting they had days ago coming to mind. “That night- why did you come to me? Really?”

Foggy’s breathing stops in his chest, “I…I needed to see you. I needed to know that you were okay – I told you that.”

“I don’t think that was the only reason,” Matt inches closer. “So I’m going to ask you again, why did you come to me that night?”

“I,” he lets out an uncomfortable laugh, “I wanted you to see what I can do- maybe. And…”

“And,” Matt’s almost nose to nose with him now.

“And,” he licks his lips, his hot breath hitting his cheek, “I can’t completely stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Giving a fuck about you.”

“Foggy-“

“Matt-“

They both pause. This is one of those moments where everything could change, but the timing… Matt knows the timing is wrong. They haven’t dealt with everything yet. He still has so much to tell Foggy and he has no doubt that Foggy has more to tell him. They should wait. They should. They shou-

The touch of Foggy’s lips on his isn’t earthshattering. It’s warm. Comforting. Home. They move slowly. Testing and tasting. The cowl drops from his hands and he curls his fingers into Foggy’s hair. His friend moans softly, pressing more firmly to him, gripping at the back of his suit. Matt is mournful that he can’t feel the warmth of his hands, but if he focuses it’s almost like the leather isn’t there. 

Breaking the kiss, they rest their foreheads together. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Foggy whispers.

Matt chuckles, “Me too.”

“So,” he drops his hands from Matt’s back to his sides, drawing little circles there, “what the hell is with the horns?”

Matt barks out a laugh at the unexpected question, “You don’t like the new gear?”

“Did not say that,” he can feel Foggy taking in every inch of him. His eyes like a caress, sending shivers up and down his spine. “But the horns? Dude don’t you think that’s a little on the nose?”

“No it’s on my head,” Matt can actually feel Foggy’s eyes roll. He chuckles at his own humor. “Listen, they named me the Devil of Hell’s kitchen,” he shrugs, “why not embrace it?”

“So do they strike fear into the common criminals?”

“Don’t know yet,” he threads his fingers through Foggy’s hair loving the silkiness. “But I’m sure I’ll find out soon.”

“You’re going out again?”

“Yes,” Matt isn’t going to lie. Not now. Not to Foggy. He is done with that…or at least he hopes he is. He’s going to try his best to be. “This city still needs me in the mask.” He waits a second, scared to ask his next question and ruin this moment. “Can you handle that? Foggy can you still be in my life with me doing this? Because I can’t stop.”

“You won’t stop.”

“No I won’t.”

Foggy steps away from him and Matt instantly feels the cold. “Can I handle it? I don’t know.” He paces the floor. “Seeing you bleeding on the floor so close to death that I was sure the fucking reaper was holding your hand? It was horrible and an image I can’t get out of my head. The thought of seeing you like that again or worse? The thought of not being able to help you because there is nothing left… That keeps me up at night Matty.” He stops pacing and turns fully toward him. “But not being in your life and you not being in mine is not an option. So I guess I will have to find a way to deal, won’t I?”

Matt is sure his relieved smile is the size of the empire state building. “I’ll do my best to make it as painless as possible for you.”

“That would be appreciated.”

He can’t remember who moves first, but soon they are back in each other’s arms. It’s still not the right time but after so much pain and stress, neither can find a good enough reason to stop. The problems will still be there in the morning light. Now Matt just wants to enjoy being able to hold his friend in a way he never has before. The kisses between them linger and they go no farther than that. Tonight is about being close. Tonight is about being together. Tonight is about them.

@@@~~~@@@ 

“They are calling him Daredevil,” Karen says as Foggy hangs up the sign that has been long over do in his opinion. “I think it fits.”

Foggy bites back a smile, “Aren’t the horn a little much?”

“I like them,” Karen shrugs.

“Maybe he did it in humor,” Matt says innocently.

“Hmm,” Foggy hums. “Well it’s done. It looks good.”

“I’m glad I fished it out of the trash,” she beams as Matt runs his hands over the raised letters. 

“So am I,” he admits watching his friend’s face as he finishes touching the last word. “Nelson and Murdock.”

“Avocados at law,” Matt states in dead seriousness. Foggy chokes back a laugh at the memory from their college days.

“Avocados?” she looks between them in amused confusion.

“Long story,” he says. 

“Ah,” she shrugs. “Well boys it’s time to get back to work. Helping take down one of the kingpins of crime has definitely given us some clients.”

“Maybe we will be able to buy a copier that works.”

She gasps as they walk through the door, “Don’t you dare talk about getting rid of Stanley.”

“You named the copier,” Matt questions her.

“You got a problem with that?”

“Nope,” Foggy shakes his head, walking into his office, “no problem at all.”

“I thought so.”

@@@~~~@@@ 

Matt stands on the roof top listening to the world underneath him. The air shifts behind him. His back stiffens. He would recognize that perfume anywhere.

“Elektra,” Matt turns toward her.

“Hello, Matthew,” she purrs.


End file.
